


Deepest Residing Fears

by CateAdams



Series: Episodes [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Going for a TOS Episode Feel, M/M, illusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9882710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateAdams/pseuds/CateAdams
Summary: On a mission to explore the source of strange energy emissions, the Enterprise encounters a planet where the line between reality and dreams is blurred. As each member of the landing party is tested, they struggle to survive with the knowledge that that they might be trapped forever, held against the edge of their worst fears.





	

_Captain’s log. The_ Enterprise _has been ordered to investigate the unexplored Gamma Tribuli system after recording strange energy emissions apparently originating from the third planet there. The energies are of a kind never before encountered and are currently being analyzed by the communications and science departments. Long-range scans indicate that the third planet is Class M, but whether there is intelligent life is presently unknown._

 

     Captain James Kirk flicked a switch on the arm of the command chair, ending the recording.

     “Mr. Chekov,” he said, pitching his voice to carry over the ambient bridge noise. “ETA to system boundary?”

     The young navigator glanced over his shoulder. “Approximately thirty-two minutes, sir.”

     The captain grunted in acknowledgement. “Good.” He shifted slightly in his seat, crossing his legs and looking toward the science station, where his first officer was peering into the scanner interface, angular features bathed in blue light. He hesitated, a muscle in his jaw tensing, and then he pushed himself to his feet, crossing the bridge and hopping up to stand next to the Vulcan.

     “Anything more on those readings, Spock?” he asked.

     The Vulcan straightened, resting a hand on the scanner hood as he turned toward his captain. “Hyperspectral analysis is proceeding, sir. These energies are remarkably complex, involving cross-dimensionality and extending into what has been hypothesized to be wavelengths reserved for biosensitive functionality, such as telepathy and synaptic operation.”

     The captain’s hazel eyes drifted down slightly before rising to meet the Vulcan’s gaze again. “Could these mean a danger to the crew if the energies increase?”

     “I do not know.” Spock reached up to remove his earpiece. “Theoretically, if multiplied exponentially in intensity, these bands could result in synaptic interference.”

     Behind the huddled command team, Lieutenant Uhura cleared her throat. “Captain?”

     Kirk turned immediately. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

     Uhura pointed to her boards. “I’ve confirmed directionality, sir. The energies are definitely emanating from the third planet of the approaching system. Precisely, their origin is along the equatorial surface, concentrated in a relatively small area.”

     Kirk glanced back at Spock. “Evidence for a non-natural origin?”

     Spock tilted his head. “Its non-distributive character may indicate that possibility. Long-range scans are not yet within range to discern life signs.”

     “Or,” Uhura said, “it could be localized because its origin was extraterrestrial.”

     Kirk hummed thoughtfully, looking at the screen where her geometric model output scrolled. Uhura swallowed a smile and tried not to notice how Spock’s eyes lingered on his captain. The entire ship was speculating on when that relationship would reach its logical conclusion. She held a suspicion that it already had, despite the two men’s obvious discretion. Kirk’s flirtatious interactions with attractive passengers were, lately, just a bit too forced and showy for Uhura to truly believe. Besides, she imagined that she knew the look of a man in love, and Kirk had it in spades.

     “Re-compute the model as we get closer,” Kirk said finally. “See if you can narrow in on the area’s exact parameters.”

     “Yes, sir,” Uhura replied. She watched surreptitiously as Kirk straightened and exchanged another glance with his first officer before Spock bent again to his scanner and Kirk returned to the center seat.

 

**~**

 

     The doors to the bridge turbolift slid open and shut and Doctor McCoy stalked over to his usual position next to the captain’s chair.

     “Hi, Bones,” Kirk said amiably. “Just in time, as usual.” The teasing was part of their normal routine; the CMO’s regular presence on the bridge was a testament to both McCoy’s friendship with the captain and his inherent protective attitude toward his crew.

     The doctor scowled, playing his part. “And what are we getting ourselves into this time?”

     “Now crossing the Gamma Tribuli system boundary, sir,” Sulu reported from the helm. “Five minutes to orbital entry.”

     “Very good, Mr. Sulu,” replied Kirk. “Steady as she goes.” He looked over at the doctor. “We’re investigating some unusual energy emanations, Bones.”

     “Unusual,” McCoy repeated dubiously.

     “Unusual,” confirmed Kirk, a small smile curving his lips. He spun his chair. “Report, Mr. Spock?”

     “We are approaching a Class-M planet, sir. Its surface is primarily oceanic, and radius, atmosphere, and orbital characteristics are remarkably like Earth. Readings indicate humanoid life signs concentrated in a single area on a small continent at the equator.”

     “That is confirmed to be in the same location as the source of the energy emission, Captain,” supplied Uhura.

     Spock nodded before continuing, “There is evidence for significant construction on and beneath the surface, suggesting that the inhabitants have achieved some degree of advancement; however, I have not picked up any radio or other communications originating from the planet and there is no evidence for orbiting craft or satellites of any kind.”

     “Interesting,” Kirk commented. “Just those energies?”

     “Yes, sir,” Spock replied. “As we approach, the energies can better be described as surface-blanketing: focused along the surface of the planet and not out into space.”

     “Focused on themselves?”

     “It would seem so.”

     Kirk rubbed his chin and McCoy leaned forward. “What are you going to do, Jim?”

     “We’ve been ordered to investigate,” Kirk said. “So, we’re going to investigate. Mr. Chekov, plot an extreme-range orbit around the third planet. I need transporter capability, but I don’t want to make ourselves too noticeable.”

     “Aye, sir,” the navigator answered.

     “Transporters?” McCoy asked. “You’re going down there?”

     “That’s the idea,” Kirk replied. “Are you interested in coming along?”

     “No!”

     “Too bad.” Kirk shrugged and smiled at his friend. “You’re going anyway.”

     The doctor scowled again, this time more convincingly. Kirk turned back toward the forward viewscreen as the star-streaks of warp space flashed and shifted into an image of a cool blue world, slowly spinning beneath them as the ship achieved orbit.

     “Orbital status confirmed, Captain,” Sulu called out. The helmsman flipped several switches on his board, adding, “We’re the only ones out here, sir. No space debris or other ships. Forward deflector beams are reading nothing that would indicate satellites or repeated atmospheric incursions.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Even our shuttles shed bolts occasionally; this place looks pristine.”

     “And quiet, Captain,” Spock said. “From this distance, scanners clearly show 45,610 life forms, all concentrated within a one square kilometer area on the surface within one of the structures, and all quiescent.”

     “Quiescent?” Kirk questioned.

     “Unmoving,” Spock clarified. “The energies have not altered in any way with our arrival; their point of origin can be confirmed to be coincident with the concentration of life signs.”

     “If we beam down,” Kirk said, “how would the energies affect us?”

     “Unknown,” Spock replied. “There is a biosensitive component, but not attuned to human synaptic pathways. The component may be tuned to alien physiology.”

     Kirk stood up abruptly, walking over to stand near the railing in front of the science station. “Recommendation?”

     Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “I recommend surface investigation, sir. Studying the mechanism that generates these energies would be most enlightening.”

     “And dangerous!” exclaimed McCoy. He shook his head at what he saw to be the command team’s typical enthusiasm for willfully courting peril.

     “That’s why we’re bringing phasers,” Kirk replied pertly. “Doctor McCoy and Mr. Spock, you’re with me. Lieutenant Uhura, you too.”

     “Aye, sir,” Uhura answered.

     “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. Continue sensor sweeps and communications scans and relay ship’s logs to Starfleet Command.” Kirk raised his chin. “We’re beaming down.”

           

**~**

     “Incredible,” commented McCoy, craning his neck to stare up at one of the windowless buildings. “All constructed from the same material: polished, perfect.”

     “No trash in the streets,” Kirk added. “No sign of occupancy at all.” He turned to his first officer. “Any change in your readings?”

     “None,” Spock answered.

     McCoy said, “That door over there looks like it was made for someone about our size, though. Maybe taller. I wonder what they look like.”

     “We’ll head over to the concentration of life signs,” Kirk ordered. “That’s where the energies are coming from, and it seems like that’s where our answers will be.” He began walking purposefully toward the center of the silent complex, the others following behind.

     “I just hope it’s not another evil computer,” McCoy grumbled, walking next to Spock. “Every time we end up searching out something like this it ends up being an evil computer.”

     “Computers do not subscribe to your human notions of ‘good’ or ‘evil’, Doctor,” Spock replied.

     McCoy grunted. “Tell that to Vaal and Nomad and Landru.” He pointed a finger at the Vulcan. “Or that giant planet-eater; that was a computer of some sort! And the M-5. And the computers on Eminiar VII!”

     “All of those were programmed, Doctor,” argued Spock, “by a living being.”

     “That may be,” McCoy continued, “but anytime a computer is left to its own devices, it turns into a menace.” He paused dramatically. “Of course, to be fair, the same can be said of a man.”

     “I find that too much interaction is also detrimental to an entity’s purpose,” Spock rejoined. “For example, if you consider unending and pointless commentary—.”

     The doctor interrupted, “Maybe it’s because I’m being forced to interact with someone who refers only to something’s _purpose_ as opposed to—.”

     “Gentlemen!” Kirk interjected. “Perhaps this is a discussion best left to another time?”

     Spock raised a brow and McCoy rolled his eyes as Uhura covered her smile with her hand.

     The central building in the complex was larger than the others, and its walls were of a different type of rock. The entrance was the same as the others, however: a metallic flash against the stone. As they approached, the metal smoothly slid to the side, revealing undefined darkness against the sun’s light.

     “Phasers on stun,” Kirk ordered, adjusting the setting on his weapon before placing it back on his belt, “but keep them holstered for now.” He glanced at Spock as the Vulcan moved to his captain’s side, tricorder at the ready. Kirk nodded and stepped forward, disappearing into the entrance, Spock following closely behind.

     Spock’s quietly recited tricorder readings as Kirk’s eyes adjusted to the light, finally revealing an immense, cavernous room. Individual white boxes, sized like coffins of old, were suspended along single cords attached to the ceiling, hanging one above the other almost the floor. The cords, of a faintly glowing silvery color, continued back for row upon row, as far as the eye could see. The room held a soft hissing noise, most likely from active ventilation, and a low, constant hum, seemingly emanating from beneath their feet. The low ambient light came from fixtures hanging among the boxes, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

     “Fascinating,” finished Spock.

     “I’ll say,” Kirk agreed. “I’m guessing these are your life forms.”

     “There is no need to guess,” corrected the Vulcan, standing close enough to his captain that their shoulders brushed. “Readings indicate that each one of these receptacles holds a single humanoid, apparently in a state of hibernation or stasis.”

     “That would explain the lack of activity,” Kirk said, throwing his first officer a fondly exasperated look. “I wonder how long they’ve been held here?”

     “Unknown,” Spock replied, his gaze travelling along the unadorned walls of the room. “Readings indicate that the source of the energy emanation is under the floor, but I do not see….”

     “Sir!” Uhura called. “Over here!”

     The communications officer had remained near the entrance as it had shut behind them. “There’s a computer console of some kind, Captain. It wasn’t there just a minute ago, but when I turned around it had appeared from behind a panel.”

     Kirk jogged the small distance to her side, Spock at his heels, and the Vulcan stepped forward immediately to scan the metallic construct.

     “Computers! I knew it,” muttered McCoy.

     “Spock,” Kirk asked, “what do you make of that?”

     The console rose an impressive three meters in height, but was barely a meter in width, gleaming with the same, slightly glowing material as the cords connecting the humanoids’ caskets. A circular screen surrounded by what appeared to be colorful buttons graced the front, at eye-height, and, as they watched, a bright line began to race across, accompanied by intermittent flashing of the buttons.

     “It is directly connected to the energy source beneath us,” Spock said. “I am reading…. Captain, we are being scanned!”

     Kirk tensed, one hand moving closer to his phaser. “Any danger?”

     “Negative,” Spock replied. “However—.”

     A sharp snap and hiss came from the console, and then a pleasant male voice emerged from the screen.

     _You are not the Rescuers. You are Separate._

     Kirk stepped forward, his posture straightening. “I am James T. Kirk, representing the United Federation of Planets. What is this place?”

     _This is the Chamber of the Saved. Built millennia ago to house those who survived the apocalypse that destroyed our home._

     “To house them,” Kirk repeated. “Until when?”

     _Until the Rescuers arrive._

     “Where was your home?”

     _Irrelevant. My function is to ensure survival._

     Kirk exchanged a frustrated glance with McCoy. “What was the nature of the apocalypse they faced?” asked the doctor.

     _Only the Rescuers can cure it._

     Kirk raised a hand toward the console. “Can you tell us anything about the energy field being generated here?”

     They all waited, but were met with only silence.

     “Maybe it didn’t like the question?” McCoy offered weakly.

     “We are no longer being scanned, Captain,” Spock said. “However, there is an additional component to the energy readings that may indicate some kind of processing capability.”

     McCoy swallowed. “You mean that it’s gathered its data about us and now it’s deciding what to do?”

     “An inadequate anthropomorphization, Doctor,” said Spock dryly.

     The doctor’s lips twisted and he huffed loudly. Kirk’s attention had moved back to the rows of caskets, motionless and quiet, except for the muffled hiss and hum.

     “An apocalypse,” the captain murmured. “So, they escaped certain destruction. A war?”

     Uhura shook her head. “The computer said ‘cure’, sir. That might mean that the apocalypse was something pathogenic, perhaps?”

     “A germ?” McCoy’s blood ran cold just thinking about it. “Bioscans haven’t picked up anything dangerous here.”

     “Unless….” Kirk’s jaw tightened. “Unless the bug is simply secured in stasis, along with the survivors. Spock, do another tricorder survey and check the integrity of those pods. See if there’s any chance they could be exchanging with the air we’re breathing.”

     Uhura’s brows came together as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. McCoy curled his own hands into fists, unable to keep his heart from racing in his chest.

     “Negative interaction,” Spock pronounced finally. “Integrity is confirmed.”

     “Thank heaven,” McCoy breathed. “If—.”

     Behind them, the console snapped and hissed again and they whirled to face it.

     _It is decided. You are Separate. I must ensure survival._

     “What’s decided?” McCoy blurted into the stunned silence. “What do you mean?”

     The soft hiss in the background had shifted in tone and was growing louder. In front of them, the console slowly receded, the panel drawing closed in front of it until the seam in the wall could barely be detected. Another panel suddenly appeared at the doorway, sliding across until it, too, had vanished. They were trapped.

     “What do you mean?” the doctor yelled, rushing forward and hitting his fist on the unforgiving panel.

     “Bones!” Kirk barked.

     “Jim, if that goddamn computer meant what I think it meant, then—.”

     “Captain.” Spock’s voice was completely emotionless, and when McCoy turned to look at him, he already knew what the Vulcan would say.

     “Jim,” Spock said quietly, “the ventilation has shifted. The pods have been cycled.”

     “Spock,” Kirk whispered, horrified.

     “We have been exposed,” Spock said simply. His eyes held the captain’s, and they were anything but emotionless.

     Kirk’s hand shot to his communicator, the resulting chatter jarring in the empty space. “ _Enterprise_. Code eight-sixteen. Repeat. Code eight-sixteen. Do not attempt rescue.” He coughed abruptly and bright, red blood sprayed across the small device.

     Spock moved before McCoy could, reaching out to catch the collapsing captain in his arms. Next to them, Uhura fell to her knees, vomiting blood.

     Kirk was choking. He couldn’t breathe for the blood and he couldn’t move from the pain. He was watching Spock’s face grow paler and paler, paths of green trailing in macabre tearstains down the Vulcan’s cheek. Further away and further still, and in the distance, he heard Sulu’s broken voice.

     _“Code eight-sixteen acknowledged, Captain. The_ Enterprise _is secure. Godspeed.”_

     McCoy reached in all futility for his medkit and then cried out in agony as his abdominal muscles spasmed and blood frothed at his mouth. This was death, then. He was dying at the hands of a goddamn crazy computer and an alien pathogen. He had failed. Somehow, he’d always feared it would end up like this.

           

**~**

 

     Life returned in a rush of heat and muggy air as Kirk gasped for breath. He was lying on his side amidst thick greenery, sweat already beading on his skin. Next to him, Spock was crouched, phaser drawn and at the ready, eyes scanning the confusing surroundings. The blood was gone from his angular features, and Kirk’s chest and abdomen no longer burned.

     “What the—?” exclaimed the captain, struggling to understand what had happened. He scrabbled for his communicator. “Kirk to _Enterprise_!”

     There was no answer, not even static. Near them, Uhura slowly uncurled her body and McCoy, ashen-faced, rolled over, his hands visibly shaking as he held them out in front of him, staring at them.

     “There’s no blood,” McCoy whispered. He touched his lips, looking at his fingers again. “No blood. My god….”

     Spock grasped Kirk’s arm to steady him as the captain sat up, the silent communicator still open in his hand.

     Uhura crawled over to assist the doctor. “Captain,” she said breathlessly, “what happened?”

     “I don’t know,” Kirk answered. He nodded gratefully to Spock and the Vulcan slowly released his grip. Kirk studied their surroundings. “I can’t raise the ship. Are we still on Gamma Tribuli III?”

     At his words, Uhura frowned and reached for her own communicator. There wasn’t just an absence of a signal; the entire device seemed to be unresponsive. She flipped it over, opening the small panel over the status readouts: power, but no operation. However, with what had just occurred, the communications officer could scarcely believe her own perceptions.

     Uhura swallowed, feeling herself shiver despite the heat. She had died; she was sure of it. She had watched the others die, too, in that strange, huge room with the hanging coffins. She could still imagine the taste of her own blood in her mouth and feel the agonizing sense of suffocation. Her heart was still pounding too fast.

     Spock had lowered his phaser and was adjusting his tricorder. “Fascinating. My readings indicate that we are at the same location as before. Precisely, in fact. Energy scans and gravity and atmospheric data indicate that we are on Gamma Tribuli III.”

     “However,” Kirk said, “we’re now in the middle of a rainforest instead of an abandoned city. And, frankly, given what we just experienced, I’m not inclined to believe those readings anyway.”

     Spock nodded. “Agreed.”

     “Bones,” Kirk said softly. “Bones, I need a medical explanation for what happened to us back there.”

     The doctor was sitting next to Uhura, his hands absently rubbing together as he stared unfocusedly out in front of him.

     “Bones!” Kirk repeated more forcefully.

     “Yes,” McCoy answered. “Uh, we had been exposed to something…an alien pathogen. I didn’t have time to identify it.” He fumbled at his own medical tricorder, lifting the sensor and aiming it at Uhura and then himself. He swallowed and stiffly moved, extending the sensor at Spock and Kirk in turn. “There’s no sign of it now. We’re clean.”

     “We were dead,” Kirk said bluntly. “We were bleeding out.” He looked down at his tunic. “There’s no sign of it now, though. A collective hallucination? Spock?”

     “If it was a hallucination, Captain, then it was a remarkably sophisticated one.”

     “We’ve experienced something like this before,” Kirk said, “with the Melkots. Again, on that planet when we encountered a facsimile of Abraham Lincoln. A manipulation of the mind and strong enough to feel physically.” His eyes narrowed as he stood. “But why?”

     “And why the communication blackout now, sir?” Uhura added. “We’d been able to contact the ship before.”

     “True.” Kirk licked his lips and began to pace. “A test? A punishment? Certainly, not a reward. Spock, what do your scans show regarding the life forms you picked up earlier?”

     The Vulcan glanced at his instrument again. “They were unchanged, Captain. However—.” He uncharacteristically trailed off, brow furrowing. “They are no longer quiescent. In fact, they are converging quite rapidly on our position!”

     Uhura heard crashing vegetation, growing louder. Something was coming at them, and from all directions.

     “Form a defensive ring!” Kirk ordered. “Phasers on stun!” He threw a look at Spock. “You hadn’t picked that up earlier?”

     “Negative,” Spock replied tightly, his phaser drawn and aimed. “I had not. Neither had I heard it, which is most interesting.”

     “So, are we in the middle of another damn hallucination?” McCoy hissed. “Or is _this_ one real?”

     Uhura held her weapon in both hands, jaw set, body tense. She imagined she could feel the weight of her useless communicator on her belt. The crashing had slowed, and she could hear individual footsteps. Whatever they were, they were large and there were a lot of them, but only one was now approaching. Trees swayed and the ground vibrated and, in front of her, a large humanoid creature finally emerged. Easily five meters tall, its skin shimmered yellow-green against the verdant background. Large black eyes peered at the small group of officers and, for a split second, Uhura imagined she recognized intelligence there.

     The creature paused, its eyes fixed on the communications specialist, and Uhura lowered her phaser.

     “Lieutenant!” Kirk warned.

     “It stopped,” she murmured. “It might want to communicate.”

     Kirk gave her a single nod.

     Uhura could see other creatures surrounding them, waiting in the shadows. Her heart was still racing, and her muscles, still unsteady after their previous ordeal, were trembling. She loosened one hand from her weapon and raised it, palm open, maintaining eye contact with the creature.

     “We do not intend harm,” she said clearly, pitching her voice and expression appropriately. “We are peaceful.”

     The creature watched her, its own expression unreadable. There was a moment of absolute silence, and then it let out a booming, ululating cry, displaying a carnivore’s teeth. It moved, and, almost simultaneously, the others did as well, bounding forward with vicious growls. Kirk let out a single shout and four phasers lit up the small clearing.

     It was not enough; the creatures weren’t stopping and Uhura screamed as a harsh swipe from a giant hand sent her careening bodily into the dense undergrowth. Stunned, she lay there, horrified as she watched her three shipmates disappear behind a wailing, pummeling wall of creatures. A guttural noise above her gave away the presence of the first, black-eyed creature, its face now creased in a very human smile and a terrifyingly large club in its hands.

     “No!” she cried, “No!”

     The club stopped on its upswing, and the creature’s head tilted. Behind it, she could hear familiar screams: McCoy, then Kirk.

     “Please!” Uhura gasped. “Do you understand me? You must stop! Stop this, please!”

     The smile stretched impossibly wide and there was no comprehension in its eyes.

     The club descended and all she could think was that this was it. This was death. She and her friends would die at the hands of a dispassionate alien, their communicators silent and their ship too far away. She had failed. Somehow, she had always feared it would end up like this.

 

**~**

 

     Spock opened his eyes, breathing in dry air scented with sand and staring up at an azure sky. His last action had been to try to shield Kirk from their attackers, and as he felt the captain stir underneath him, he slowly rolled away, reluctantly loosening his grip from Kirk’s arms.

     Next to him, the three humans were struggling back to consciousness, their bodies unmarked. The Vulcan looked down at his own body, noting that his left leg had been reattached, and all other evidence of blood or injury was gone. Their uniforms were barely wrinkled. The pain, the blood loss, the physical trauma: all were gone, as if they had never existed. The emotional resonance, however, persisted, and Spock struggled to order his mind, his hands shaking. The choking vegetation was gone, and they were in a vast expanse of pale sand, a clear sky arcing overhead. Half-buried in the sand next to him, a single communicator beeped urgently, and he flipped it open immediately.

     “Enterprise _to landing party! Come in, Captain Kirk!”_ It was Sulu’s agitated voice, shouted over red alert sirens.

     Kirk shot up from the ground, hazel eyes wide, and Spock relinquished the device.

     “Kirk here, Mr. Sulu. About time! We need an—.”

     “ _Impulse engines have failed, sir,”_ Sulu cut in abruptly, _“and auxiliaries are losing power. We can’t figure out why, and we can’t stop it. Orbital path degrading. We’ll hit atmosphere in less than one minute!”_

     Kirk threw a desperate and disbelieving glance at his first officer. “Impulse engines? Warp out of orbit, Sulu! Is there anything wrong with the warp engines? Where’s Scotty?”

     Spock listened with growing confusion. Sulu had made no mention of the previous code eight-sixteen and given no details regarding the engine problem. It was as if the entire situation had been _reset_ somehow, and this time there was something obviously wrong.

     “Sulu, can you hear me?” Kirk was saying.

     “ _I can hear you, Captain. No chance of jettisoning life pods.”_ The alarms were still blaring, now joined with the sound of human screams.

     Horrified, Kirk clambered to his feet, slipping in the sand, Spock rising next to him. Uhura looked to be in a state of shock, staring blankly in front of her. McCoy was trying to get up, but didn’t seem to have the strength. “What about the warp drive?” Jim yelled. “Sulu, use the warp drive to break out of orbit! Emergency power!” The captain’s mind was a blur, still recovering from the trauma of the jungle and angry at Sulu’s lack of explanation or action. If impulse engines were gone, there were still a dozen things left to try. His crew would never give up. “Jettison the nacelles if you have to! The shock wave from the detachment will push you out of orbit! Sulu, do something!”

     “ _I’m so sorry, Captain_ ,” sent Sulu. “ _Hull temperature’s too high! We’re burning up!”_ The screams were louder, accompanied by the squeal of strained infrastructure, and the transmission abruptly degraded into static.

     “There!” McCoy called, pointing at the sky. They saw a bright flash, and a fireball ignited, lighting a grim trail across the horizon.

     “No,” Kirk whispered, holding the spitting communicator in his hand. “No!”

     “It’s not real,” Uhura muttered behind him. “It’s not real. Please, it can’t be real.”

     Kirk stared up at the defiant sky. This was his fault. His ship, falling, his people, dying. Somehow, he had always feared it would end up like this. His blood roared in his ears, and he thought he might be sick. Everything was suddenly spinning, spinning away, and he thought he called his first officer’s name, reaching out for Spock and capturing nothing but sand.

 

**~**

           

     Flat on his back, Kirk blinked up at a blank ceiling. The flat plains of desert had vanished with the last tableau, and they were now in a small, featureless room, white light emanating from rectangular panels along the walls. The captain instinctively clawed for his communicator, coming up with nothing. “Spock,” choked Kirk. “Spock, do you—?”

     “The communicator is missing, Jim,” replied the Vulcan, his normally calm voice tight with suppressed emotion. “Are you alright?”

     Kirk shook his head slightly, his eyes glazed. The ship had burned. She had burned, and he had heard his crew’s screams. “Fine,” he lied. At Spock’s raised eyebrow he amended, “or as fine as you can be after all that.” He winced and pushed himself to a crouching position, surveying the room warily. “Uhura? Bones?”

     “I’m okay, Jim,” McCoy answered quietly. He was sitting next to the lieutenant, looking at her concernedly.

     “I am not—,” Uhura began haltingly. McCoy placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into the older man. “I am not alright,” she continued. “That was—.” She grimaced and then opened her eyes, visibly composing herself. “Captain, I don’t know why this is happening to us, but it’s too real. Each time seems too real, even if it can’t possibly be.” She shook her head, shaken and shaking. “It keeps happening so fast, and I tell myself that it can’t possibly be real.”

     McCoy looked at the captain sharply. “The same goes for me, too, Jim. That first place with the computer and the alien virus was something that I had feared.” He swallowed. “Abstract, maybe, but the fear was real. The pain was real; the guilt was real.”

     “Guilt,” Kirk repeated. They were right: guilt and depthless grief still churned through him, his heart racing, and he kept hearing Sulu’s voice in his head. Kept hearing the distant shriek of his ship’s death spiral. He was shaking; It was the closest he’d ever felt to panic, or insanity, and, next to him, Spock reached out, touching his arm briefly in support.

     “I couldn’t save you,” McCoy was saying hoarsely, “any of you. For all that I’m a doctor, I was helpless.”

     “And I couldn’t communicate,” Uhura said, nodding absently. “We couldn’t reach the ship and the creature couldn’t understand me. I failed my duty.”

     “No-win scenarios? The _Kobayashi Maru_?” Kirk muttered. “We’re being forced to confront our worst fears?” He chewed his lip viciously, cautiously glancing around the room again. “So whose nightmare is this? And why?”

     “Vulcans do not experience nightmares,” Spock said flatly. He was still watching the captain, unwilling to move any further away.

     “Don’t give me that crap,” blurted McCoy. “I know for a fact that you have a few things that—.”

     “Bones,” Kirk interrupted wearily. “That’s enough.” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes meeting his first officer’s.

     Uhura crossed her arms over her chest. “Is it just me, or is it getting colder in here?”

     “You are correct,” Spock told her. “The temperature has been steadily decreasing since our awakening.” He regarded the captain. “Jim, you recall one of the previous…scenarios, just before the creatures began their charge? And then again, with the ambiguousness of the engine malfunction?”

     Kirk unconsciously shifted even closer to his friend. “I think so,” he replied slowly. “Yes, that may be something.”

     McCoy rolled his eyes, his arm still encircling Uhura. “Would you mind elaborating for the cheap seats in the back?”

     Kirk turned his head. “Spock didn’t hear them approaching until we did. And, with that last one, Sulu didn’t seem to hear me when I told him to warp out of orbit. And he should have known to do that even without my direct order. He should have known to do _something_.” Kirk licked his lips, struggling for control. “If someone or something is manipulating our perceptions, it evidently hasn’t accounted for everything. Spock,” he continued briskly, turning back to the Vulcan, “when we were dealing with the Melkots, you suspended our belief so we didn’t feel what our senses perceived. Can you do that again?”

     Spock raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. However, these experiences reflect a much more sophisticated approach. I should prefer to attempt such interference on my own, initially.”

     Kirk frowned, but nodded. “Understood. Go ahead.”

     The captain chewed his lip again as he watched the Vulcan’s eyes close, Spock’s hands rising to press long fingers against his temples. Long seconds of silence ensued, and McCoy and Uhura glanced at each other uncertainly. Kirk’s eyes, however, didn’t waver, and he gasped suddenly, rising to his knees and reaching out to hold Spock’s arms as the Vulcan’s expression contorted and a single drop of green blood slid from his nose.

     “Spock!” Kirk hissed. “Spock?”

     The Vulcan’s eyes snapped open, visibly trembling hands falling from his temples and his body swaying, Kirk’s grip alone keeping him from collapsing forward. “Jim,” he whispered, “it is impossible, and they…they—.”

     “They?” Kirk earnestly asked, trying to meet his friend’s eyes. “Who are they?”

     Spock swallowed and slowly settled back. Kirk released him, and the science officer wiped the back of his hand across his nose, smearing the blood. “This environment is being manipulated, and simple disbelief is not sufficient to dispel the sense of reality. I suspect…I suspect that the energy readings that drew us here are significant to this regard.”

     “Who’s manipulating us?” Kirk persisted. “Can you tell if the _Enterprise_ is still up there somewhere?”

     “Unknown. An intelligence of some kind. I sensed…strong curiosity and…purpose. It has a purpose for this, and for us. I could not glean anything further.”

     “What purpose?” cried the doctor. “To watch us bleed, die? To watch us handle pain and fear?”

     “I do not know,” Spock said solemnly.

     “But it’s not real,” said Uhura hopefully. “It is being manipulated?”

     Spock looked at her. “The line between mental perception and physical reality is strongly blurred; I cannot answer whether we are only perceiving these events or if we are in fact,” he paused, “being bodily regenerated each time.”

     Kirk rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Regenerated?” he repeated tersely. “Like that malevolent alien did with Kang and the Klingons, and our crew?”

     “Indeed,” Spock said. “Healing and more. Our psychological and emotional response, however, does not appear to be engineered. For instance, in none of these scenarios have we been forced to act outside of our own natures.”

     “None of us have betrayed each other,” Jim muttered. “Or hurt each other, despite what our worst fears might entail.” His jaw tightened, his teeth chattering. “When the Klingons were onboard, that creature actively instilled hate and fear. Whoever or whatever is in charge here appears to just want to watch.”

     “We still need to uncover their purpose,” Uhura said, her shoulders hunching as the cold deepened around them. “What if there is no end?”

     “Damn,” muttered McCoy. He shook himself, pulling his attention back to their present dire situation. “We have to get out of here quickly, or we’ll freeze to death.”

     There was a soft hiss as a heretofore hidden panel slid open in the wall, revealing an opening roughly two meters high. The four officers clambered to their feet, and Kirk moved first, walking stiffly toward it. There was a pale blue force field just inside the doorway and, beyond, arranged on the floor, was their missing equipment.

     “Our c-communicators!” Uhura stammered, shivering violently. The room’s plummeting temperature apparently had not been disturbed by the panel’s opening “We can contact the ship!”

     “Captain, wait,” Spock said sharply, touching Kirk’s arm. “That appears to be a kyronin field.”

     Kirk stopped, his shoulders impossibly tight. “Then that’s this test,” he murmured.

     “What?” McCoy asked loudly. He looked at Uhura, but she shrugged, shaking her head.

     Kirk moved fast, but Spock was faster, his hand snapping up to clasp the junction between his captain’s neck and shoulder. “No,” Kirk whispered, his eyes closing and his body going limp, and Spock caught him and gently lowered him to the floor.

     “Spock, what the hell?” yelled the doctor, and Spock turned to face McCoy’s and Uhura’s shocked expressions.

     “Passing through a kyronin field results in a fatal dose of r-energy,” Spock said quietly. “We cannot stay here without all of us suffering death by hypothermia, and we cannot call for help without breaching the field. This way, only one of our lives will be forfeit.”

     “Jim knew that,” McCoy said, glancing down at his unconscious friend. “He knew you were going to—.”

     “He would have done the same,” Spock said softly.

     “But even if you get out there, I bet those communicators won’t work!” McCoy hissed, trying to keep Spock talking. The doctor didn’t have his medkit and he didn’t have a weapon, and there was no chance of disabling the Vulcan to keep him from proceeding, and especially not in this creeping cold. “There has to be another way!”

     “I see none, Doctor,” Spock said, his words slurring slightly.

     McCoy scowled. Spock’s lips were turning purple with cold, his body shuddering, the humans were faring only slightly better and wouldn’t be for long. They were running out of time.

     Spock inclined his head and silently turned.

     McCoy stifled a final plea, knowing it would do no good. This entire situation was created, constructed, cruel, and he was helpless. He curled frozen hands into fists, his teeth gritted, bitter anger raging. Next to him, Uhura held tight to his arm, her expression reflecting her own anger. “Leonard—,” she whispered.

     “I can’t stop him,” McCoy said simply. And Spock strode through the deadly blue light.

     The Vulcan staggered as he passed through the field, stumbling to his knees on the other side. He reached their equipment and picked up a communicator, flipping it open.

     “Spock to _Enterprise_ ,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Emergency.”

     There was no response that McCoy could hear, and Spock collapsed to his side, staring back at his three shipmates through the eerie blue light. He shook his head once.

     “Dammit to hell!” yelled McCoy. “Goddammit!”

     On the floor, Kirk stirred, hazel eyes opening blearily. “Spock—.”

     Outside, the Vulcan had reached for a phaser, pointing it at something near the doorway. A flash of energy, and the force field suddenly vanished, the air in the room shifting. Kirk had flipped over and was crawling on hands and knees to his first officer.

     “Jim, wait!” McCoy said, but followed, warily glancing at the now-unassuming doorway as they passed into yet another unadorned, illuminated chamber. The air here, however, was quite warm.

     “There is no signal,” Spock murmured. His breathing was ragged. “Like the jungle. It was a…lure.”

     “Why did you do it?” Kirk was saying, reaching his friend’s side. “Spock, why did you do it?”

     “You know why,” Spock said simply. “So you would not.”

     Kirk’s expression was broken, heedless of the presence of the others. “But, this is my fear again,” he whispered frantically. “My fear is to lose. To lose the ship. To lose you this way.” The captain’s hands found one of Spock’s as McCoy retrieved his medical scanner and ran it over the Vulcan’s body. The doctor winced at the readings and shook his head.

     Uhura’s hands covered her eyes, her shoulders shaking.

     “We can’t keep doing this,” Kirk muttered frantically. “Over and over; feeling every second of it. Dying again and again; watching our worst fears play put in front of our eyes. I won’t—.” He stopped suddenly, glancing over at the doctor with a wild look in his eyes. “And what’s going to be next? Who’s next? Around and around? What’s the endgame? Is there even one?” He stopped abruptly, his hands still clutching Spock’s. Something in his expression changed dangerously. “With Kang, we refused to fight, but here…. Here, they control everything, and it doesn’t seem to matter if we fight or not.” He grimaced. “That creature would have let us and the Klingons fight for an eternity, dying again and again, butchered again and again; I refuse to allow that to happen here.”

     “Jim,” cautioned McCoy. “Whatever you’re thinking—.”

     But the captain was staring down at his dying first officer. “Spock, listen to me. What if they haven’t accounted for everything? What if you don’t die here?”

     Spock blinked at him. “I…I don’t—.”

     “They didn’t adjust that jungle reality to account for your hearing. They didn’t seem to know very much about the ship’s operation. Maybe they can’t adjust this reality to….” He trailed off. “Meld us,” he commanded suddenly.

     “No,” Spock whispered, remaining color draining from his face. “It will…kill you. I will kill you…drag you down with me into death. No.”

     “They’ll kill me anyway,” Kirk said. “If not this time, then the next, and they’ll force you to watch, to experience it. And who knows what they might be doing to our ship, our crew. You can use my energy to survive; you’ve done it before: given me your energy and held me just on this side of death’s door. Remember? This time, take from me!”

     “That circumstance…was different.”

     “Jim,” McCoy cut in warily, “this isn’t a good idea.”

     “We don’t have time to play these games by their rules. Spock,” Kirk entreated, lifting the Vulcan’s hand to his face, “let’s change the rules.”

     “I will not,” Spock said weakly. “No, Jim, please…please do not….”

     “They won’t be expecting this,” Kirk insisted.

     “I…I am not convinced of the…of the logic of your request,” Spock managed. “It may not work.”

     “It’s not logical,” Kirk said. He closed his eyes, shifting Spock’s fingers slightly against his face with a small, defiant smile. “And I’m not requesting, _t’hy’la_.”

     “No!” whispered the Vulcan. “This is _my_ fear, Jim, that you do this. Please—.”

     But Kirk ignored this entreaty, ignored McCoy’s shouted warning. He concentrated instead on the receding warmth of his friend’s thoughts, focusing along well-known mental conduits that no human should be able to access, relying on a fundamental connection that neither of them dared name until now. If this was death, then he was dying by his own hand, clinging to a stubborn idea and a shred of hope. And he felt Spock’s thoughts, bright with grief even as the Vulcan’s fading mind clung helplessly to Kirk’s: _Somehow, I always feared it would end up like this_.

     Spock’s eyes closed as Kirk’s did, and McCoy stared at his medical readouts, crying out in frustration as not one, but two life signs surged, fluttered, and then failed in front of him, the two men’s bodies slumping limply against each other in a macabre embrace.

     McCoy lifted stricken eyes to meet Uhura’s gaze, and then the scene blinked around them, flashing once and then twice amidst a high-pitched squealing noise before fading to pitch-black silence.

           

**~**

 

     “Hello?” McCoy called on all his training to calm himself enough to say something. Thick darkness surrounded him on all sides, with no sense of up or down or front or back. It felt like he was floating in something extremely viscous, and he couldn’t see, or hear much beyond the sound of his own pounding heartbeat. He fought against panic, noting that, wherever he was, at least he could breathe. “Uhura? Jim?”

     There was nothing here, no one around him, and McCoy wondered if this was another scenario. If it was, it was having its intended effect; he was terrified. “Spock?”

     The doctor fumbled at his belt, confirming the absence of any of his equipment, and began to count his breaths in and out as a way of marking time. He made it three hundred and four before he stopped, thinking perhaps he heard another noise.

     “Jim?”

     The sound wasn’t the captain’s voice, but it was oddly familiar: high-pitched, squealing. It was distant, and growing louder by the second, and McCoy recognized it as the last thing he had heard in the last tableau after Jim and Spock had apparently died. It seemed to burst toward the doctor like a physical thing, and the viscous material around him began to pulsate and sway with the force of it. McCoy covered his ears, shutting his eyes and curling into himself, and then cried out in shock as gravity reasserted itself and he hit a hard surface, bright lights perceptible even through his closed eyelids.

     “Doctor McCoy!”

     Uhura’s exclamation was as welcome as angel’s song, and McCoy opened his eyes, seeing her face hovering over him. He could see. He could hear. He wondered if they had just snapped into the next terrifying scenario.

     “Negative,” intoned an unfamiliar androgynous voice. “This is not part of the risk assessment terminal response evaluation.”

     That prompted the doctor to sit up quickly, accepting Uhura’s assistance as he stared at the speaker. The being was tall, its form obscured by pale yellow robes. Deep violet skin stretched over its head, slight indentations where a mouth and eyes might otherwise be found. There were four parallel slits in place of a nose, and it stood motionless even with the doctor’s quick movement.

     McCoy looked warily away from the being to take in his surroundings: a solid white floor and dimensionless expanse of white all around him. No obvious pieces of equipment or lights. No way to orient himself except for the floor.

     “I got here just before you,” Uhura murmured. “Snapped in from somewhere I couldn’t even begin to describe.”

     “Pea soup,” whispered McCoy. “You see Jim and Spock?”

     “The others are being processed,” the being uttered. “Their method of response was not portable to our simulation.”

     “They’re alive?” Uhura asked, louder. “They’re coming?”

     “They will be here.”

     McCoy shifted on the floor. The being’s voice didn’t seem to originate from its mouth, but from inside his own head somehow. He licked his lips nervously. “What did you mean by…by risk assessment, uh—.”

     “Risk assessment terminal response evaluation,” the being repeated. “It is necessary to evaluate the response of those who would interact with our world and its inhabitants.”

     Uhura asked, “So, all of what we experienced on this planet was a simulation?”

     “Affirmative.”

     McCoy couldn’t help exploding. “What the hell do you mean by it? All that pain and suffering? For what?”

     Another squeal cut him off as the area flashed with light, and Kirk and Spock suddenly appeared next to McCoy and Uhura. The two men were holding each other in their final, desperate embrace; as they blearily took in the others, they slowly and reluctantly separated.

     “Jim!” McCoy exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

     Kirk exchanged a look with the Vulcan before his gaze landed on the strange being. “I don’t know, Bones,” the captain said haltingly, addressing the doctor. “You? Uhura?”

     “We’re alive, sir,” Uhura answered shortly. They all watched the being, who hadn’t moved, even its robes holding stationary.

     Kirk slowly pushed himself to his feet, Spock following. McCoy struggled to stand as well, noticing how Spock’s hand lingered on the small of the captain’s back, steadying him. Kirk, predictably, was doing his best not to show any weakness.

     “Who are you?” he asked the being, pitching his voice in command tones.

     “We are the Seminrit,” it replied. “You are James Kirk. And Spock. And Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura of the ship _Enterprise_ , come to visit our world.”

     Jim cleared his throat, gesturing around him. “Is this your world? Or another virtual reality?”

     “Our world is, as you say, a virtual reality, constructed and supported by the imaginings of the inhabitants. And as such, we use this entry protocol, our risk assessment terminal response evaluation, to comprehend the very worst imaginings of those who seek to join us, however temporarily.”

     “Fascinating,” murmured Spock.

     “Each inhabitant holds to capacity to destabilize the entire system,” the being continued. “Therefore, we must confirm the worst of what you hold to be possible to evaluate your suitability for introduction.” It paused significantly. “We have determined that not only are you not yet ready for introduction, but furthermore that aspects of your minds are inapplicable.”

     “Could you clarify that assessment?” Spock asked.

     “Your mind is connected to that of James Kirk,” the being stated bluntly. “That connection is not commensurate with the functioning of our virtual reality system. Each inhabitant must be separate, and uniquely participating. Connection acts as destabilization.” The tone of the being’s voice shifted somewhat. “Otherwise, you are still not suitable. Your species lacks the requisite capacity for…suspension of disbelief.”

     Kirk stepped closer. “You mean we didn’t sufficiently believe in what we were experiencing?” 

     “You were not willing to believe it. You are stubborn. You are…determined to prove its non-reality instead of accepting the realistic aspects of it.”

     Spock’s eyebrow flew up and Kirk held out his hands. “Perhaps, but we still seek to make contact as representative of the United Federation of Planets.”

     “Impossible.” The being moved for the first time, an odd shifting motion away from them. “Discourse here is uncomfortable, and here is the only place where our reality most closely aligns with your own.”

     Another, less brilliant flash, and their missing equipment suddenly manifested on their belts, the tricorders draped across McCoy’s chest, and Spock’s.

     The being moved again, slinking further away. “You will contact your ship and beam aboard. You will depart and not trouble us again.”

     “I accept your terms,” Kirk said quietly. “We will do as you say.”

     “See that you do.” The being flashed away even before the words had finished echoing through the officers’ minds.

     Kirk didn’t hesitate to flip open his communicator, part of him still skeptical that this scene wasn’t yet another false reality. “Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,” he said quickly.

     “Enterprise _here, Captain! Are you—?”_

     “Emergency beam-out,” Kirk barked, interrupting Sulu’s question. “Energize!” The captain turned to face the others as the familiar chime began, the sparks of dematerialization dancing over his skin, the strange white place disappearing into the hoped-for transporter platform.

     The transporter officer looked confused. “What happened, sir? You were only gone for five minutes.”

     Kirk had already bounded to the console, hitting the intercom. “Kirk to bridge. Initiate immediate orbital breakaway! Warp factor six to the edge of the system!” His voice was uncharacteristically breathless; he couldn’t forget the sounds of his ship’s phantom plummet into the atmosphere, and he wasn’t willing to stick around to give the Seminrit a chance to make virtual imaginings into an irrevocable reality.

     “ _Aye, Captain!”_ Sulu responded immediately.

     In the background, the sound of the ship’s great engines swelled and Kirk turned slowly to face the other members of the landing party. “Spock? Is this—?” He didn’t finish the thought, his hands gripping the transporter console as if to hold on for dear life.

     Spock stood silently, his fingers again lifted to his temples. Seconds crawled past, and then the Vulcan lifted his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he answered. “As far as I can perceive, we are free. I cannot detect any degree of manipulation. It appears that the Seminrit’s influence began upon beam-down, and ended with our return here.”

     Kirk exhaled, watching Uhura and McCoy do the same, the communications officer closing her eyes in relief.

     Spock tilted his head. “It will be interesting to confirm the long-range sensor readouts as to the distribution of lifeforms on the planet. If our readings were correct, their race may consist of only 45,610 quiescent lifeforms.”

     “I wonder how long they’ve held themselves like that, in their virtual reality,” Kirk mused. “How long they live? What happens when they die? Perhaps that down there is all that remains of billions. Or, maybe there are only visitors, joined and then unable or unwilling to leave. Content to remain in their own minds, creating their own version of reality.”

     Kirk looked at his first officer. “Prison or prize, Mr. Spock?”

     The Vulcan inclined his head. “Neither for us, sir.”

     Kirk managed a small smile, releasing his hold on the console. “Indeed. Not for us, it would seem.”

     Behind the console, Mr. Kyle leaned forward. “Captain? What happened down there, sir?”

     Kirk shook his head. “Nothing happened,” he said softly. “It was but a dream.”

           

**~**

     Hours later, reports filed and debriefings completed, Kirk sat across from Doctor McCoy in the physician’s office. Two glasses of brandy rested on the cluttered desk, surrounded by data cards and old-fashioned hardcopy. The captain had barely touched his, but the doctor was well into his third.

     “So, we’re designating that world as no contact,” Kirk said, staring at his hands where they were clasped in his lap. “No one ended up permanently damaged and the ship is in one piece. Spock says that our experience informed the remote data he’d collected regarding those mysterious energies and that a significant amount of research into synaptic response to virtual environments will come from it.”

     “Oh, really?” McCoy was frowning. “And that’s all he has to say about it?”

     Kirk looked up, his expression vaguely challenging. “What else is he going to say?”

     “Nothing.” It was McCoy’s turn to look away.

     “The specifics of what happened down there didn’t go into the log,” Kirk said pointedly.

     McCoy grunted, still avoiding Kirk’s gaze. “One specific in particular, you mean.”

     The captain’s eyes hadn’t wavered. “That’s right.”

     McCoy licked his lips, raising his eyes to meet his friend’s. “You’d never mentioned your link with him was that consequential,” he said, trying his best not to sound accusatory. “It explains a lot, including Florsten’s Planet.”

     Kirk watched him, nodding slowly.

     “I remember sitting here, just like this,” McCoy continued, “holding a glass of brandy and thanking the powers above that you were still alive. Everything in my medical experience dictated that you should be dead, and yet you were lying in my sickbay, drinking soup and grousing about not being allowed to check in with the bridge.” The doctor’s expression shifted uneasily. “I’d taken it on faith. Turns out that I should have looked to a more corporeal savior.”

     “The link wasn’t something we conspired to do, Bones. It happened. It seems to be growing deeper.”

     “How deep is it going to go?”

     Kirk’s lips tightened but he didn’t answer.

     “I don’t like it,” McCoy said finally.

     “I know,” the captain replied softly. Kirk rose to his feet. “It is what it is, Bones. It’s late and I’m going to turn in. Thanks for the drink.”

     “Anytime.” McCoy sighed as he watched his best friend leave. The doors swished closed behind the captain and the doctor shook his head, reaching out and cradling his drink in his hands. The glass felt cool and solid. Real. McCoy scoffed to himself, remembering all the other times that reality had been anything but. For an instant, he envied Kirk’s connection with Spock: something that seemed to be untouchable, even amidst their most recent ordeal. The envy vanished almost as quickly as it came, however, and McCoy drained the rest of the liquor in a single gulp, relishing the burn along his throat. He watched the chrono click over into gamma shift and stood, sleep pulling at his limbs. “Good night,” he said quietly, raising his empty glass to the universe in general. “Sweet dreams.”

 

 

END

 

 

Author’s Note: I do not own Star Trek, and I make no money from this.

 

Story Note: This is one of what I hope to be a series of “episodic” stories, set during the five-year mission.

           

 

 


End file.
